


Dad, Probably

by amadscientistapproaches



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: And shock, Diptember 2018, Gen, I don't know what the name of this AU is, Mysteries, Week 3, and cynicism, arrival in Gravity Falls, but Stan's the kids' dad, it's been done before but I want in on this, panic stan panic, to general surprise, yes a very mixed bag it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadscientistapproaches/pseuds/amadscientistapproaches
Summary: A VERY short amount of time ago - Dipper can't stress that enough - Mom got a job as a travelling journalist and now, in the absolute epitome of convenience, she's gonna be pretty much constantly on the move for anywhere between 2-6 months. So, him and Mabel need some place to stay.What better place than this . . . this . . . Mystery Shack.Which belongs to a friend Mom hasn't seen in years.Who looks kinda . . . terrified?Oh boy.





	Dad, Probably

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've had quite a stressful time, and I really needed a whole lot of happy, self-indulgent fun, so enjoy!

“I like it,” Mabel decided brightly, staring out the car window at the tourist trap.

It was old. It was gauche. It had been owned, operated, and inhabited for a long time and looked it. The self-proclaimed “MYSTERY HACK” nestled in the woods as naturally as a toadstool in a library and as yet Dipper hadn’t been inclined to autocorrect the ramshackle spelling. The fact that Mom was going to dump him and his sister here for the rest of the foreseeable future didn’t help his mood. He glared at the floor.

“I think that’s the guy.” Mabel nudged him, tilting her head towards the view she had. Sparing a glance, Dipper saw a large group of overly-excitable tourists rounding the side of the building and being herded inside by a man in a suit and a fez, directing them with some sort of cane like a Maestro. Mom approached as the last of the crowd disappeared inside, calling out an indistinct greeting. The man turned, immediately stepping forward with a wide showman’s grin, only to falter. He became significantly more awkward as Mom approached, and by the time she stopped in front of him the smile was more a grimace of politeness. Dipper frowned. This was not encouraging.

He watching glumly as they talked for a while. When the guy’s jaw dropped, and his head snapped around to look at the car so fast he must have gotten whiplash, eyes going wide and face draining of colour at Mabel’s happy wave, Dipper sighed and turned back to the floor. To the backdrop of a very loud “Oh God. Oh my GOD,” he thought, _Great. She doesn’t tell_ us _she’s got the travelling journalist job, she doesn’t tell her_ friend _beforehand that he’s going to be putting up two kids for a while, what’s next on the agenda?_

“I think he’s excited!” Mabel cheered.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH-”

“Very excited,” Mabel maintained blithely as Mom shut the guy up before he could say (or, more accurately, shout so loudly the windows rattled) something he’d _really_ regret. She was pretty big on the no-swearing thing.

“Is he about to throw up?” Dipper wondered, eyes drawn back to the scene against his will.

Mabel paused, inspecting the view. “He _might_ be. Oooooorrrr he might be really interested in the grass! He sure is bending down close to it,”

“I think ‘doubled-over’ is more accurate,”

“Haha, cool words. Ooh, what about now, what’s the word for that?”

Dipper looked closely.

“I’d say that’s a ‘row’,”

“‘Row’.” Mabel turned it over in her mouth. With cheerfulness that possessed the tensile strength of a steel cable, she said, “It rhymes with ‘wow’! This is gonna be _great,_ I just know it! Woop, here they come,”

Mom was walking back towards them, the guy following her like his legs weren’t working properly. When she motioned for them to hop out, Mabel did so in an “eager” way, while Dipper went for more of a “resigned” look.

The four of them met in a square of grass. There was a daisy growing in it. Mom looked at the guy. The guy continued to gaze speechlessly at the kids. The kids side-eyed one another. Mom sighed.

“Kids, this is Stan.” She introduced. “He’s okay with you staying here for a while until I get back.”

 _Riiiiight,_ Dipper thought, mentally raising an eyebrow. In his experience, Mom usually ended up getting what she wanted regardless of what other people were okay with. He and Mabel considered it both an awesome and frustrating superpower, and this was a case where Dipper was sour enough to be leaning heavily towards the latter option.

“He’salsoyour-” she added, lightning quick, but the speed with which Stan’s head cracked around to nail her with a panicked glare was still fast enough to stop her in her tracks. And ‘cracked’ was perhaps an even more suitable term than Dipper had originally realised. Now that he was closer, the guy did look old – but not definably so: he could have been anywhere between five and fifteen years older than Mom; the hair that was visible under his fez thick, but very grey, and his face lined, but more of the stress type than the age type, if Dipper had to guess. The cane seemed to be for show rather than support, and everything he’d heard of his voice so far was . . . well . . . atypical, Dipper decided with some restraint. Really gruff (possibly the roughest thing he’d ever heard), but what it lacked in pleasantness could more than be made up for in strength of volume, as he’d already demonstrated.

“I’m sorry, I mean, he’s also _my_. . . very good friend,” Mom finished eventually, rolling her eyes. Stan relaxed slightly, which was to say he looked like a marginally less tense bowstring.

Now, Dipper wasn’t an idiot. He was very proud of that fact, and he was determined to keep it true. As such, he’d only had to listen to _one_ of Mabel’s overly-embellished explanations of this in his whole life, when certain things came up, and since then he’d been able to put together clues himself. Mom had never been married, had never wanted to be as far as he knew, and had had no one serious enough in her life for Dipper and Mabel to know about since they’d been born. _That being said,_ they would, occasionally, encounter and be introduced to someone who had been, at one point, Mom’s “very good friend”.

i.e. Someone she’d dated or something. Mabel was generally more interested than he was in prying for details.

So. Another one, then. One that he and his sister would be crashing with.

 _Could this_ really _not have been planned better? Or at all?_ He thought desperately.

During the silence Stan’s gaze had gradually been drawn back towards them. Dipper managed a weak grin. Stan matched it, even weaker. It stayed that way, before becoming something more genuine. Another moment, and Dipper would call it downright infectious.

“This is a _long_ silence _,_ ” Mabel said airily, also grinning widely.

Stan laughed.

“Anything you want to say?” Mom asked him expectantly. That brought him back to reality. The grin dropped, and he suddenly looked like he wanted to run away again. Mom grabbed his arm.

“Excuse us,” she said to them, her smile brittle. Stan got dragged a few steps back to the Mystery Shack.

“This is not going well,” Dipper said flatly.

“You’re right,” Mabel snapped her fingers. “This old man is gonna need some _ultra_ Mabel cuteness if we want this to be the best summer-slash-undefined-length-of-time-that-probably-won’t-exceed-six-months ever!”

 _“-of course I’ll tell them! Yes, I_ will _I swear, I just- I need some- I gotta sort some things out first!”_

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” frowned Dipper, trying to subtly edge closer to the adults and eavesdrop on their hissed argument better.

_“-it’s a lot for a guy to take in, is all I’m saying!”_

“Hey.” Mabel tugged at his sleeve.

“What?”

“Did you see that?”

 _“-the_ hell _wouldn’t you tell me?!”_

“Uh huh, sure,” Dipper said vaguely, craning his neck to try and make out the expression on Mom’s face.

“ _Dipper._ In the forest, look!”

Mom was saying something matter-of-factly back now, but she was much better at keeping her voice quiet than Stan was.

“It looked like a hawk and an octopus had a baby together!” Mabel said ecstatically, peering further into the forest.

“Right, right – _what?_ ”

“It was a . . . wait for it . . . hawktopus!” She grinned dazzlingly, eyes wide and amazed.  

“What? Mabel, stop messing with me, what did you really-” He stopped dead at the shadowy shape he saw moving high in the trees. There was a clear bird head, and a hint of feathers, and . . . well, _could_ those really be vines, dangling below it? And from its beak, as well?

One whipped out and snagged a nearby critter, dragging it up to the tentacled beak to be swallowed whole.

Dipper felt his jaw drop open.

“Alright kids, I’m gonna head off now,” Mom said unceremoniously. Mabel turned away immediately and dashed over to give her a bone-crunching hug, which was readily returned.

Dipper continued to stare speechlessly at the forest.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Mabel whined.

“I know honey, I’m sorry, but it’s only for a little while and I’ll be back as _soon_ as I can. I love you so much. _Dipper Pines, get over here and give me a hug good-bye!_ ”

“Oh, right.” Dipper shook himself and tore his gaze away, heading dutifully over to Mom, remembering when he was halfway there that he wasn’t happy with her and appropriately reschooling his expression. He still gave her a hug, though, and hugged tighter when he realised he might not be seeing her in person for as long as six months – but it wouldn’t _actually_ be that long, right? Just until things became a bit steadier, which couldn’t take too long, right?

He caught sight of the garish building again.

_No way that we’ll have to stay here for six months. Right?_

“Promise me you’ll at least _try_ to have some fun?” Mom said, pulling back and looking at him in concern.

He didn’t want to have bad memories of his last hug with Mom for definitely-not-a-long-time. With this in mind, Dipper only used about a quarter of his sarcasm reserves in his answer.

“Well, you said spending some time outdoors would be good for me, so I suppose it’ll happen whether I like it or not,”

“That’s the spirit. I’ll be back as _soon_ as I can,” she promised them, and then got back in the car, honked a goodbye, and left. Unnecessarily rapidly, in Dipper’s jaundiced opinion.

With nothing left to do, he turned back to Stan.

And the forest.

And the hawktopus!

All concern and resentment was flushed from his mind in an instant: he wanted to know what the frick-frack was in the trees and what it looked like and how big it was and if there were more and was it _really_ a hawktopus or was it just something normal after all? That would be disappoint-

“‘Pines’?” said a dazed voice.

“Uh, yes?” Mabel smiled at Stan, who was blinking like he’d been hit on the head with a your-life-is-now-changed stick. “That sure is our last name, and it sure does seem to have a lot of significance to you!”

He cleared his throat and seemed to hurriedly pull himself together. “Right. Of course. I just, y’know, was under the impression that your mom’s last name was . . . er, something different. Right?” He looked at them uncertainly.

 _Well, this guy mustn’t have lasted long,_ Dipper mused privately. _He doesn’t even remember Mom’s old last name. So of all the exes she could have loaded us with, why this one?_

“Yeah it was,” he explained, still itching to run over to the boundary line between the trees and the car park and examine the dark, tentacled shape further. “But she didn’t want us to have it because it was so awful, and then she changed hers to match ours as well a few years after we were born,”

“Right! Yeah, that makes sense, ‘cause, yeah, her last name was definitely cra- cruddy, that . . .” Stan trailed off.

“Pea-Nez!” Mabel filled in helpfully.

“Pea- _what?_ ” He looked pretty startled. Dipper felt his cheeks warm up and nodded grimly.

“Yep. Some people still call her by it, but at least now the spelling’s different,”

“Yeesh, no wonder she used mi-,” Stan said reflectively before abruptly cutting himself off. “Uh, well, better get you two inside, huh?” He crouched down to pick up Mabel’s bag for her.

Immediately, Dipper saw his chance to investigate the thing in the trees starting to vanish. He looked urgently at Mabel, and she leapt into action, just as curious about it as him.

“Wait!” she shouted.

Stan jumped violently and snatched his hand back, stricken.

“What?!”

“We want to explore!” she beamed.

“Specifically the forest!” Added Dipper eagerly. “Is there something in there? That, like, possibly has never been discovered or seen by human eyes before?”

“Like an entire forest full of magical creatures?” Mabel enthused.

“You saw something?!” Stan whirled around on his knees to face the trees, one hand unmistakeably closing into a fist.

“Yeah!” Dipper said excitedly. “It was like this huge hawk, but it had tentacles for a beak and more tentacles for legs and it reached out and just _grabbed_ this squirrel and it ate it whole and it’s eyes, oh man, they were-”

“-so _beady!_ ” Mabel picked up. “Like it had a hunger that could be satisfied only by the blood of the innocent! But other than that it was totally cute. Its squishy little tentacle face! Awww!”

“I wonder if it squirts ink! Wait, wait – if it inks, then it must have a predator! But it was huge! How big could its predators be? How _dangerous?_ Mabel, we need to check this out!”

“You mean, go after the crazy deadly animals that hunt hawktopuses for food and maybe fun?”

“Yes!”

“Well, duh! What else are you supposed to do with the wonders of nature! Haha, I doubt we’ll get eaten or anything,”

“Stan!” Dipper’s heart was starting to beat faster and he already picture all the cool photos he could get if this was really happening and not just some awesome dream he didn’t want to ever wake up from. “Is the supernatural _real?!_ ”

After a moment, Stan turned back to them, hands spread in a what-can-you-do gesture, a shrug in his shoulders and only the barest hint of strain in his grin.

“Nope. Sorry, kid. The only weird things around here are the idiot tourists, who, believe me, are much easier to scam out of their money than the effort making a moving hawk-octopus hybrid thing requires,” he dismissed, taking hold of Mabel’s suitcase and reaching over for Dipper’s as well.

“Wait . . . you mean it’s a robot or something? You made it?” Dipper frowned.

“Awww, what?” said Mabel disappointedly.

“Got it in one,” Stan said easily.

“But I could’ve sworn it was . . .” Dipper moved to the side so he could see around Stan, who was blocking his view of the hawktopus.

“Well it wasn’t,” Stan said shortly, his arm coming up to grab Dipper’s shoulder and keep him in front of him. “Alright, let’s go find some room for you in the Shack, huh? Indoors. Away from any hell-bir- _robotic_ hell-birds. I think the attic’s got some free space. You with me, kid?” He waved a hand in front of Dipper’s wandering eyes, bringing them back to him – which made Dipper notice something.

A very familiar pair of brown eyes.

Dipper blinked and frowned a little, looking more closely into the man’s increasingly confused gaze.

“What, I got something on my face?”

Dipper looked over at Mabel – or more precisely, her eyes; the same brown – but he supposed brown eyes weren’t all that unusual, and even if they were also a similar – no, _exactly_ the same shape that didn’t necessarily . . . mean anything.

Mabel had tilted her head and was looking back and forth between him and Stan, inspecting them thoughtfully.

“What? What is it?” Stan and Dipper said together. Then they looked at each other. Then they scratched the back of their necks in bemusement, mirroring each other.

Stan froze. Dipper lowered his hand hurriedly.

“Okay, this is gettin’ weird,” Stan said after a pause. He retook his hold on Dipper’s suitcase and stood with both their luggage. They followed as he strode perhaps a bit quicker than necessary back to the shack, the thought briefly crossing Dipper’s mind to make a break for the forest before it was dismissed. He was getting more curious about Stan, which . . . kind of undermined his strength of cynical conviction.

They were in a crowded giftshop. Tourists milled about near clothes racks and counters, fawning over snow globes and souvenirs. Stan grinned and talked and gestured grandly, upping prices with practiced ease. Dipper had to admit that his guts were impressive – he was certain that no snow globe could be worth eighty dollars, no matter how well-made or “one-of-a-kind” (despite there being another twenty on the same shelf). With every gaudy and obviously fake attraction he saw, like the jar of eyeballs on the desk, Dipper became more and more suspicious of the creature he’d seen outside. It had appeared significantly more . . . _real_ than anything inside so far. The tourists called Stan “Mr Mystery” as he passed. Dipper was beginning to think that name fit him.

They reached the back of the room. The thought that maybe all wasn’t as it seemed was once again entering Dipper’s head. If it was true . . . well, maybe this hopefully-only-a-summer (although if this town was a nesting site for the supernatural, maybe six months wouldn’t be so bad) was going to be a lot more interesting than he’d imagined. Question marks were filling his head.

“Hey, who are you two little doods?” said a friendly voice.

Tweaking the hinges of an “Employees Only” door was a large man with an affable face, a toolkit belted around his waist, and, huh, a question mark across his dark green shirt.

“Hi!” Mabel said brightly, sticking out her hand. “We’re here for an epic summer romance!”

“ _She’s_ here for an epic summer romance,” corrected Dipper.

“Our mom dropped us off to live here, in this place specifically, for no discernible reason except that she somehow knew Stan,” Mabel continued happily. “I’m Mabel Pines, and this is my brother Dipper!”

The man laughed, shaking Mabel’s hand. “Oh man, what a coincidence, huh? Mr Pines, they’ve got the same last name as you!”

“Same last name?” Echoed Dipper. He looked narrowly at Stan, who was very interested in the ceiling all of a sudden.

“I’m Soos, by the way, the Mystery Shack’s mysterious handyman – or not really, I guess. If you want real mysteries you’ll probably have to go into the forest,” Soos said amenably.

“Mysteries in the forest?” Dipper repeated, perking up.

“Soos, can I talk to you for a minute?” Stan interrupted, making the request sound more like a demand.

“Sure thing, Mr Pines.” He added to Mabel though, “No discernible reason, huh? Then I’d guess you’re in for some life-changing and probably unexpectedly heart-warming personal revelations. That’s the way it always goes.” He nodded knowledgeably.

“A room, Soos! We’ve got to set up a room for them!” Stan said, some desperation creeping into his voice.

“Oh, sure. Can’t have you sleeping on the floor – _unless_ that’s what’s you like. If that’s not what you like though, we should probably get you some beds. I don’t know if there’s any more in the Shack, actually. But hey, I’m sure Mr Pines’d let you have his bed if it came down to it! After all, you guys have the same last name, _and_ you look a little similar, _and_ your mom knows him, so you’re practically fam-”

“ _Now,_ Soos!” Stan quite literally dragged him into the next room, carting away Dipper and Mabel’s bags with him.

Dipper stared at the door, feeling a little bowled-over. He licked his lips.

“Hey Mabel?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you . . . do you think Stan’s our da-”

“Probably.”

“Huh,”

_Well, I guess that’s one mystery down. Only a hundred more to go._

_I wonder if the hawktopus is still out there?_


End file.
